distant catcalls of theplayground and the smell of the new snow and the soughing of the wind inthe trees, he couldn't bring himself to say it. She either knew thesethings or she didn't, and if she didn't, he didn't know what he could doto help it.
"What?" she said at last.
"Do you --" he began, then fell silent. He couldn't say the words.
She looked irritated, and the sounds and the smells swept over him asthe moment stretched. But then she softened. "I don't understand it,Alan," she said. "Is it true? Is it really how you say it is? Did I seewhat I saw?"
"It's true," he said, and it was as though the clouds had parted, theworld gone bright with the glare off the snow and the sounds from theplayground now joyous instead of cruel. "It's true, and I don'tunderstand it any more than you do, Marci."
"Are you...*human*, Alan?"
"I *think* so," he said. "I bleed. I eat. I sleep. I think and talk anddream."
She squeezed his hands and darted a kiss at him. "You kiss," she said.
And it was all right again.
#
The next day was Saturday, and Marci arranged to meet him at thecave-mouth. In the lee of the wind, the bright winter sun reflectedenough heat off the snow that some of it melted away, revealing thestunted winter grass beneath. They sat on the dry snow and listened tothe wind whistle through the pines and the hiss of loose snow blowingacross the crust.
"Will I get to meet your Da, then?" she said, after they'd watched ajackrabbit hop up the mountainside and disappear into the woods.
He sniffed deeply, and smelled the coalface smell of his father'scogitation.
"You want to?" he said.
"I do."
And so he led her inside the mountain, through the winter cave, and backand back to the pool in the mountain's heart. They crept along quietly,her fingers twined in his. "You have to put out the flashlight now," hesaid. "It'll scare the goblin." His voice shocked him, and her, he felther startle. It was so quiet otherwise, just the sounds of breathing andof cave winds.
So she let the whirring dynamo in the flashlight wind down, and thedarkness descended on them. It was cool, but not cold, and the windsmelled more strongly of coalface than ever. "He's in there," Alansaid. He heard the goblin scamper away. His words echoed over the poolaround the corner. "Come on." Her fingers were very cool. They walked ina slow, measured step, like a king and queen of elfland going for a walkin the woods.
He stopped them at the pool's edge. There was almost no light here, butAlan could make out the smooth surface of his father's pool.
"Now what?" she whispered, the hissing of her words susurrating over thepool's surface.
"We can only talk to him from the center," he whispered. "We have towade in."
"I can't go home with wet clothes," she whispered.
"You don't wear clothes," he said. He let go of her hand and began tounzip his snowsuit.
And so they stripped, there on his father's shore. She was luminous inthe dark, a pale girl-shape picked out in the ripples of the pool,skinny, with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Even though he knewshe couldn't see him, he was self-conscious in his nudity, and hestepped into the pool as soon as he was naked.
"Wait," she said, sounding panicked. "Don't leave me!"
So he held out his hand for her, and then, realizing that she couldn'tsee it, he stepped out of the pool and took her hand, brushing her smallbreast as he did so. He barely registered the contact, though shestartled and nearly fell over. "Sorry," he said. "Come on."
The water was cold, but once they were in up to their shoulders, itwarmed up, or they went numb.
"Is it okay?" she whispered, and now that they were in the center of thecavern, the echoes crossed back and forth and took a long time to dieout.
"Listen," Andy said. "Just listen."
And as the echoes of his words died down, the winds picked up, and thenthe words emerged from the breeze.
"Adam," his father sighed. Marci jumped a foot out of the water, and hersplashdown sent watery ripples rebounding off the cavern walls.
Alan reached out for her and draped his arm around her shoulders. Shehuddled against his chest, slick cold naked skin goose-pimpled againsthis ribs. She smelled wonderful, like a fox. It *felt* wonderful, andsolemn, to stand there nude, in the heart of his father, and let hissecrets spill away.
Her breathing stilled again.
"Alan," his father said.
"We want to understand, Father," Alan whispered. "What am I?" It was thequestion he'd never asked. Now that he'd asked it, he felt like a fool:Surely his father *knew*, the mountain knew everything, had stoodforever. He could have found out anytime he'd thought to ask.
"I don't have the answer," his father said. "There may be no answer. Youmay never know."
Adam let go of Marci, let his arms fall to his sides.
"No," he said. "No!" he shouted again, and the stillness was broken. Thewind blew cold and hard, and he didn't care. "*NO!*" he screamed, andMarci grabbed him and put her hand over his mouth. His ears roared withechoes, and they did not die down, but rather built atop one another, toa wall of noise that scared him.
She was crying now, scared and openmouthed sobs. She splashed him andwater went up his nose and stung his eyes. The wind was colder now, coldenough to hurt, and he took her hand and sloshed recklessly for theshore. He spun up the flashlight and handed it to her, then yanked hisclothes over his wet skin, glaring at the pool while she did the same.
#
In the winter cave, they met a golem.
It stood like a statue, brick-red with glowing eyes, beside Alan'smother, hands at its sides. Golems didn't venture to this side of hisfather very often, and almost never in daylight. Marci caught him in theflashlight's beam as they entered the warm humidity of the cave,shivering in the gusting winds. She fumbled the flashlight and Alancaught it before it hit the ground.
"It's okay," he said. His chest was heaving from his tantrum, but thepresence of the golem calmed him. You could say or do anything to agolem, and it couldn't strike back, couldn't answer back. The sons ofthe mountain that sheltered -- and birthed? -- the golems owed nothingto them.
He walked over to it and folded his arms.
"What is it?" he said.
The golem bent its head slightly and looked him in the eye. It wasman-shaped, but baggier, muscles like frozen mud. An overhang of bellycovered its smooth crotch like a kilt. Its chisel-shaped teeth clackedtogether as it limbered up its jaw.
"Your father is sad," it said. Its voice was slow and grinding, like anavalanche. "Our side grows cold."
"I don't care," Alan said. "*Fuck* my father," he said. Behind him,perched atop their mother, Davey whittered a mean little laugh.
"You shouldn't --"
Alan shoved the golem. It was like shoving a boulder. It didn't give atall.
"You don't tell me what to do," he said. "You can't tell me what todo. I want to know what I am, how we're possible, and if you can't help,then you can leave now."
The winds blew colder, smelling now of the golem's side of the mountain,of clay and the dry bones of their kills, which they arrayed on thewalls of their cavern.
The golem stood stock still.
"Does it...*understand*?" Marci asked. Davey snickered again.
"It's not stupid," Alan said, calming a little. "It's...*slow*. Itthinks slowly and acts slowly. But it's not stupid." He paused for amoment. "It taught me to speak," he said.
That did it. He began to cry, biting his lip to keep from making asound, but the tears rolled down his cheeks and his shoulders shook. Theflashlight's beam pinned him, and he wanted to run to his mother andhide behind her, wanted to escape the light.
"Go," he said softly to the golem, touching its elbow. "It'll be allright."
Slowly, gratingly, the golem turned and lumbered out of the cave, clumsyand ponderous.
Marci put her arm around him and he buried his face in her skinny neck,the hot tears coursing down her collarbones.
 
; #
Davey came to him that night and pinned him in the light of theflashlight. He woke staring up into the bright bulb, shielding hiseyes. He groped out for the light, but Darryl danced back out of reach,keeping the beam in his eyes. The air crackled with the angry grindingof its hand-dynamo.
He climbed out of bed naked and felt around on the floor. He had a geodethere, he'd broken it and polished it by hand, and it was the size of asoftball, the top smooth as glass, the underside rough as a coconut'shide.
Wordless and swift, he